Too Broken Now
by Will.Hell.Minna.-Sophia Isobel
Summary: Harry's heart had always been like glass. Fragile and easy to break. And after being together for so long, Draco had broken his heart. One-shot.


Written for **Filch's List of Prompts**

Prompt for July 16th- "**Fragile Heart**"

Characters: **Harry P. and Draco M.**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER. DON'T SUE.**

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><p>"<strong>Too Broken Now<strong>**"**

Most of the time, Harry was a sound sleeper. But that night, as the young wizard huddled alone under his covers in his chamber at Malfoy Manor, he could barely sleep a wink. Though the hour was very late, though his limbs felt like lead weights and his eyes felt like sandpaper, he just couldn't get his mind to shut off. His breath escaped him in short, irregular tatters.

His heart wouldn't stop thudding painfully against his ribcage, nor would his mind stop straying to the awful events of that day.

Harry didn't know what had happened, or how he might have been the cause of it. All he truly knew was what Draco had said to him three days earlier, and the terrible effect it'd had on him.

Draco—the young blond who had been Harry's dearest, sweetest, most precious friend, the closest thing he had to a brother aside from Ron and the other Weasley boys.

Or so he thought.

Even after all the tears Harry had shed the last three days, new ones welled up in his emerald green eyes at the stinging memory.

The day had started out like any other. Harry had been sharing his breakfast with Draco. Since it was a nice day, with a clear, cloudless sky and an idyllic breeze, they ate on one of the outer balconies of the manor.

Neither of the two said much at first, focusing mainly on the food and the pleasant weather. Even so, Harry sensed that Draco was troubled about something. When the Harry asked Draco outright if he was feeling all right, Draco wouldn't look at him, but instead kept his gaze fixed on his cup of tea as he stirred it around languorously. When Draco did finally speak, Harry would never forget the words that came out of his mouth.

Slowly, haltingly, Draco told Harry that perhaps it would be the best thing for them both—and for everyone at the manor—if they didn't stay together, if they didn't hang around each other so much anymore.

At first, Harry was sure his mate had to be joking. But when it finally hit him that Draco was dead serious, the raven-haired boy was so stunned he nearly dropped his cup and saucer on the floor. For a full minute or so, a minute that seemed to span an eternity, Harry could neither move nor speak. When he found his tongue in the end, all he could sputter was,

"B-but—but, _why_?"

Draco shook his head, and his face looked sadder than Harry ever remembered seeing it look. "I'm sorry, Harry," he answered, in a voice almost too soft to be heard.

"I thought long and hard about this, and I realized that…" He stopped, wavered for a time, before he was able to go on. "We're just two completely different people. We live two totally separate lives. We're about as different as any pair can possibly get. We're like trees and stones, like winter and spring."

"Our differences didn't used to bother you before," Harry countered, not even realizing he'd said that until it was too late.

Draco made a grimace, as if he were experiencing physical pain. But he said nothing in reply, and he still ambivalently avoided direct eye contact with Harry.

Harry could hardly believe what his ears were hearing. All these years they'd been together, been closer than bark on a tree, and now Draco was telling him they were better off without each other? "So, this is what it all comes to?" the boy asked, unable to stop himself. "You're simply throwing me and our friendship away, like a load of useless rubbish?"

Draco said nothing. He simply lowered his head and covered his face with one hand, blocking out Harry and everything else around him.

Harry's tone grew softer, almost pleading. "Come on, mate. You're my best friend, the best I have here, or anywhere else in the world. We've stood by each other this long. Whatever the problem is, we can surely work it out."

But all Draco would say was that he was sorry, and then he just stood up and trudged back into the castle, despite Harry's protests. The faun's shoulders sagged lower than usual, his head hung abjectly to his chest, and there was a definite falter in his step. Not once did he stop, however, and not once did he look back. "Draco!" Harry cried after him. "Draco, come back! Come back! I need you!"

Draco kept going.

"I need you!" Harry wailed, his voice rising significantly in volume and intensity, tears blurring his eyes. "_I need you!_"

Even so, Draco kept walking, until he had disappeared completely from Harry's sight…and his life.

Harry was nothing short of devastated. It felt as though his very heart had been torn right out of his chest.

How could Draco do this to him?

How could the blond git throw him out of his life just like that? Didn't he want Harry anymore? Wasn't Harry good enough for him anymore?

Had Harry _ever_ been good enough to begin with?

In the two days that followed, rage and sorrow burned in Harry like fire. Everything he could get his hands on, he threw it with every ounce of his strength, and the other residents of the manor, including the elves, learned to stay well out of his way. He'd screamed every curse he could think of, howled like a dying animal, shed so many tears it was really a miracle he didn't flood out the whole place.

But now, here in his bed, the youth only felt cold and empty, like a hollow shell.

On the outside, he was Harry; inside, there was nothing.

What was he supposed to do now? What did he have to live for and hope for now? Who could he trust now? He had trusted Draco, and Draco betrayed him.

Just when he'd believed there was somebody for him in this vast, lonely world, it proved too good to be true. All Harry wanted now was to be dead—to be free of this misery, this ungodly pain.

Yet as the boy lay there in a forlorn heap, heedless of the tears that were seeping steadily into his pillow, he slowly became aware that someone was with him, in that very room.

He felt a light hand on his shoulder, heard a gentle whisper in his ear. "Harry? Harry, are you awake?"

If Harry hadn't heard that voice, he wouldn't have believed it. It was none other than Draco himself. Sure enough, when Harry dared to turn his head and lift his eyes, there he stood, bent low over him, gazing down solicitously at him. His face was half-illuminated in the blue-white light of the moon that streamed in through the window. Even in the dimness of the room, Harry could tell Draco hadn't slept any better than he had.

The sight of his former friend caused fresh pain to stab at Harry's heart. There were a thousand things he wanted to say to Draco's face, but the only words that found their way off his tongue were, "What are you doing here, Draco?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Draco meekly as he settled quietly onto the mattress at his companion's side. "I'm sorry to disturb you like this…but I needed to see you, to talk to you. I couldn't put it off any longer."

At an earlier time, Harry would have been furious at him, would have thrown him out on the spot, but now he didn't have the energy for it. However, as he hauled himself to a sitting position, there was a noticeably cool edge to his voice as he said, "I thought you didn't want to have anything to do with me. I thought you said we were better off without each other."

Draco bowed his head. "That's what I need to talk to you about."

Something in the other wizard's posture and tone of voice spoke to Harry's heart, and Harry felt himself slowly softening in spite of himself. When Draco revealed his face a moment later, Harry caught sight of a glint of tears.

"Oh, Harry," he blurted out, his voice thick with grief and remorse, "Please forgive me. I am so sorry. You'll never know how sorry I am for what I've done to you. I was wrong. The truth is, I don't want to live without you. I—I can't make it without you." Shaking his head woefully, he lamented, "I can't believe I had the gall to say that in the first place, or even _think_ it."

Fresh tears sprang up in Harry's eyes as well. Throat too tight to permit proper speech, he could only sit and stare at Draco, who looked as if he wanted desperately to hug him.

Draco did start to reach out to Harry, but instead he turned away and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry," Draco moaned again, his palms muffling his anguished voice.

"I know I hurt you, Harry. More than anything, I wish I could take it all back. I don't deserve you, but I want to try to make things right with you. Forgive me. Give me another chance. Tell me there's still hope for the two of us. Please, Harry, I beg you."

The plea sounded sincere, but Harry felt his bitterness and hurt from the last three days sting him like a scorpion that was just attacked by its enemy. His own tears began to flow freely as he looked back at Draco.

Draco stood there waiting for Harry to speak.

"How can I? You already broke me into so many pieces that until now... I'm still not whole." Harry said.

Draco had broken his fragile heart. And nothing the blond said would make the pieces glue itself back together. Nothing.

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><p><strong>AN: Read and Review. Constructive Criticisms are very welcomed. ^_^**


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